Let Down No More
by Air In here
Summary: Clarke meant the world to Shari, but one day he dissappeared. Then, a year later, she wakes up in a room with two options. To live, or to die. She has made the choice.


Let Down No More

**I do not own Saw. Basically, I don't own anything.**

**AN: Okay, so...I'm Erin, and I wrote this fan fiction when I was supposed to be writing the next chapter for my other story, and after I finished watching 28 Days Later and Nightmare on Elm Street: Dream Warriors (both of which I do not own) I decided to write this. I think it's better than other things that I've written, but I'm probably wrong, meaning that the other's sucked as well. I'm not doing any pairings from the movie, only OC. If you want me to add something to my story, then too bad. This is a one-shot. Oh, and no, this is not a cross-over. I just used his name to make their relationship and problems work, and so I could use the song. Well, on to the story...**

"Hello Shari. You don't know me, but I know you. You have spent your life pushing people away, leaving your friends and never making new ones. You wish for your life to end, when you have so much to live for. If you really want your life to end, then here's your chance. If you wish to live, then you must listen closely. There are two keys inside your wrists. You must cut them out and unlock the hand-cuffs that attach you to the pole, and the door. It shouldn't be too hard, as you have had practice cutting, haven't you? You have two minutes to complete this task before the walls impale you. Oh, and one more thing: I don't suggest taking off your goggles or mask. The liquid that is falling from the ceiling is medical alcohol, which will burn any sensitive flesh and also make you dizzy. The knife is on the table beside you. You better hurry up."

As I look around, I realize that the walls to the right and left of me are lined with spikes and a door is directly opposite me. Hmm. This is quite the predicament I've gotten myself into. I guess I deserve it. There's been nothing for me to live for, as I have no friends, and my family doesn't want me. The only thing that would make me try to live would be Clark. I can feel myself smiling sadly as I think his name. I always said that he was my Superman, but apparently Superman can be burned to death.

Images flash through my mind. Memories of me being with Clark. Happy memories, like when we drove three hours to watch a new horror movie, only to find out that the theatre stopped playing it the day before. Heh, we were so mad about the three hour drive that we just asked for tickets to what ever was playing. In the end, we saw some kid movie that made us laugh so hard! His laugh could always make you forget your troubles.

More images flash through my mind, but these are one's that I've tried to suppress. Unhappy memories. Horrible memories. There was too much pain for someone who had to get up, go to school, and come back home. Just those three things would drain my energy. I guess now that I'm going to die, I don't need energy. I can cry all I want, because I don't have to get up in the morning and act like everything's okay.

Tears fall down my face as I remember going to identify Clark's body, but it was so burned that I couldn't even recognize him, even though it had to be him. He had been missing for ten days. If he had ran away, he would have taken me with him, or at least told me.

He said that we would always be together, that we were meant for each other. We loved each other, and everybody knew it. Everybody knew that we would be married as soon as we were done high school. I even told my best friend, Jewls, that she would be my maid of honor. Then all our dreams went up in smoke, literally.

"Why? Why did you have to leave me Clark?" I sob. This is the first time that I've said his name in a whole year, the last time being at his funeral while giving my speech that couldn't even begin to show how much I would miss him. "You said we would be together forever! My life is, no, _was_ meaningless without you. I can't keep going one day at a time, when I'm having trouble going one second at a time." The alcohol has stopped falling, but the walls to the right and left of me are slowly moving towards each other, and soon I'll be with Clark. I take off this mask to make the best of this moment by singing our song.

"_I can't stand to fly,_

_I'm not that naive,_

_I'm just out to find_

_The better part of me._

_I'm more than a bird; I'm more than a plane,_

_I'm more than some pretty face beside a train._

_And it's not easy to be me."_

Once I stop singing, I hear a speaker go on, and somebody starts singing as well.

"_I wish that I could cry,_

_Fall upon my knees._

_Find a way to lie_

'_Bout a home I'll never see."_

Suddenly I start singing, my feminine voice and his masculine voice intertwining to make beautiful music.

"_It may sound absurd, but don't be naïve,_

_Even heroes have the right to bleed._

_I may be disturbed, but won't you concede_

_Even heroes have the right to dream,_

_And it's not easy to be me."_

I'm shaking, and I realize that the walls have stopped moving. I've heard that voice in my dreams, but not in real life. Not for a whole year. "Clark?" I ask, my voice shaking and tears streaming down my face.

"It's alright Shari, I'm here." It was after he said that when I fainted.

.

..

...

..

.

I must have been dreaming. I heard _his_ voice. Of course I was dreaming because, however hard I hope, Clark is dead and there's nothing that can change that. But...there's been a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that says he _has_ to be alive. That body wasn't his, even though the fire had started the day he went missing in the barn that he loved to hang out in, and only he and I knew about that place. I couldn't identify the body, even though I knew what he looked like better than what I look like. Ugh! Why does my mind have to do this to me? It's hard enough trying to go through school without thinking of him, and now he's all I'll be thinking about! I guess I'd better get up...where's my alarm?

Opening my eyes I realize that I wasn't dreaming. I seem to be in a different room though, and there's a throbbing sensation in both my wrists. I look at my wrists to see the usual criss-crossing of scars where my blade has been, but something else is there too. Some stitches in the shape of half-circles with what looks like deep cuts. I move my wrists experimentally and find that they are sore and remember that I used to have keys in them. I guess whoever did this make-shift surgery took them out. They did a pretty good job of sewing...

Clark could sew really well! Maybe _he_ did this...no. He would never hurt me. He promised. But...he left me. He already broke his promise, so why would one more time matter? Ugh, I'm going crazy. Even if he weren't...gone...the chances that he's here are one in a billion. God, I need answers. I wonder what I'm supposed to do. I call out to see if anybody can hear me.

"Hello? Is anyone here? Hello?"

"Shari? You're awake!" I turn to see somebody standing behind me in a corner.

"Cl-Clark?" I ask as my whole body shakes. It's really him. He's really here!

"Yeah, it's me Shari. He takes a step forward, but I take one back. Maybe this..._is_ a dream. I mean, after all, I _did_ get drunk last night. Maybe I'm still passed out on my couch, dreaming this now horrible dream. I back up until I'm against the wall and slide down to the floor in tears. I should have killed myself when I had the chance.

"Do _not_ say that! If you had killed yourself after my funeral, you wouldn't be here." I guess I said that last part out loud.

"How do you know I tried to kill myself?" I was at our spot beneath three spruce trees in the back of the park where nobody went, except us. Clark finally steps into the light and I see the face of the man that I fell in love with.

"Oh my God, it's really you." He still has the same piercing, ice blue eyes, and jet black, shaggy hair. He looks about the same height, which was about six feet tall, but now he has a beard. Not a gross, scruffy one but a nice one.

"Yeah, it's really me. I know that you tried to commit suicide, because I've been following you since I went missing." He stops walking about three feet away from me, with a look that says he's clearly wondering if he should come any nearer. He can't decide, so I choose for him. I get up and go towards him with caution. When I get to him I wrap my arms around him and hug him close to me.

"I've missed you so much." I mumble into his chest.

"I've missed you too."

"Please, don't ever leave me again."

"I won't. I promise I won't."

**AN: Crap ending, I know. I just felt like writing something where the imagination could be left to fill in the blanks. Or maybe subconsciously I wanted to make a "happy ending" where they aren't really safe and happy. Or maybe I'm just subconsciously lazy. Probably the second one, considering my circumstances. Actually, this was supposed to be a multi-chapter story, but I couldn't think of an ending, so here it is. If I ****do**** make a good ending, I'll re-post it, or continue on with this, which ever is allowed on here.**

**Remember: I love reviews, especially bad ones. The good ones may boost my pride, but the bad ones boost my ability!**

**Erin**


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